|The D.C Collection | Imagines, One-Shots, Preferences, and More |

Billionaire Brat | Gotham!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Description: A young Bruce Wayne has just begun to develope his "billionaire, playboy" cover. When he finds that his charm can impress the girls at galas, he starts to hope it can impress the girl at Wayne Manor, too.

Words: 1039

Notes: Kinda cute, kinda short, like me. I tried to include more fancy words lol XD.

THIS ACTUALLY DOESN'T INCLUDE ANY SPOILERS FOR SEASON FOUR OR ANY OTHER SEASON!!! READ ON MY LITTLE BIRDS!!!

_

You had been apricating pleasantly in one of the many living rooms of Wayne Manor, splayed out on the warm carpet with your eyes closed. You liked this room the most for one reason and one reason alone: the windows were floor-to-ceiling, so you could lay like a lazy cat while basking in the sunlight. Particles float through the ray of light slipping into the home, dancing and swirling around one another, the midday sun embracing the surface of your body. It is a beautiful day.

You sighed deeply when you heard footsteps approaching. They were a little heavier than you were accustomed to, with a measured pace to every step that gave the impression of confidence. It makes you imagine someone who lifts their chin when they talk. That's not what you get... exactly, anyway.

Bruce Wayne smiles, "Y/N." He must not like the way he makes the word sound, as he clears his throat and forces his voice to become smoother. "I knew I'd find you here."

You roll over onto your belly and balance your chin on your hands, grinning up at your friend in return. "Sorry. It's just so nice out, but I was too lazy to put on my shoes and..."

You gesture to the window with a tilt of your head, trying not to grin as hard as you feel like grinning. You are entirely aware of what Bruce Wayne does to you. But Bruce isn't and doesn't reciprocate, regardless of what Alfred, and Selina, and Jim, and—okay, yeah, a lot of people have told you that Bruce liked you in return. You'll believe it when you see it. And oh, are you about too.

"You look so beautiful all relaxed like this," Bruce offers his hand, vivaciously beaming in the way the sun outside does. "I'm glad I get to see it."

You take his hand with a tentative blush, which only deepens when he pulls you to your feet and doesn't release your hand. The combination of sincerity and lack of seriousness makes you question his intentions; since when was Bruce ever not serious?

Your lips part and your exhale trembles with delight when Bruce leans down. He presses a smirking kiss against your hand, eyes never trailing nervously away from your own in the way they typically do. His confidence is almost all-consuming. You have yet to decide if you like this yet. The phantom feeling of his kiss against your knuckles doesn't fade, even when he releases your fingers delicately, like a magician might release a dove from his hat.

Bruce's hands aren't aquiver, his voice doesn't crack like like that of a pubescent boy, and he isn't blurting out stupid things at any given moment. He's thinking. He's processing, processing how deep you blush when his lips leave your fingers, how your breath hitches with the sudden but welcomed compliment. He should process things a lot more—you in particular.

"I—me too. Thanks." You flushed deeply.

A haze of confusion still blankets your thoughts as his movements become less and less Bruce-like the deeper the conversation becomes. He leans back into the arm of the nearest leather couch, folding his arms casually and looking you over once more. As embarrassed and unkept do you feel under his gaze, you remain unwavering and (a little) unafraid when you ask, "But—quick question—why... um, why are you acting so... weird?"

Bruce's eyes widen ever so slightly, like he's been caught, before he relaxes his stance even further to hide the true rigidness of his frame.

He chuckles, "What do you mean, Y/N?"

You catch onto just how tense he is, which can be read even if he tries his best to hide it. You copy his earlier stance and cross your arms suspiciously. "...You're a terrible liar. What are you doing?"

Bruce is almost successful in his endeavor to look puzzled. But it doesn't reach his eyes the way his sudden panic does, and you take a step forward to breach his space.

You narrow your eyes, "Bruce Wayne is an adorable young man who stutters when I talk to him, has a face as red as a cherry, is stuck in his head half the time I'm around, goes out of his way to make me happy and—"

Halfway through a thought crosses your mind, and your suspicion drops out of your hands like an escaped rabbit. Wide-eyed, you stare back at the boy that you now realize has a massive crush on you.

Okay, you weren't stupid. Bruce Wayne didn't ask to dance with just any girl, didn't call you in the middle of the night to talk about nightmares and better dreams for no reason, and certainly didn't blush like a mad-man when you had to kiss him for a "mission" once. You just figured that he did all those things with Selina too. Judging by how she smirked between you and Bruce as you talked, unnaturally close and concerned with one another's safety, she either not feel the same way or simply knew that Bruce liked you. Which he did.

Before you can think about the consequences, you watch as he struggles to stutter out an explanation. You plant your hands beside his hips and trap him against the couch. His expression flitters from "oh god" to "oh god please kiss me". In the few seconds it takes for him to silence, you decide what you are going to do.

"Bruce." You say.

"Y-Y/N." Bruce responds.

A short silence.

"Were you and Alfred practicing your acting skills the other day so you could impress me?"

Bruce paused again."...No."

"Okay," your hands abandoned their places at his sides, instead settling onto your waist, "Too bad. Guess I won't kiss you like I had planned to."

"I-I—" Bruce stands up straight, watching you scoop up your book from the coffee table, bookmark your page, and then head for the door. He watches you exit with his mouth agape. Suddenly, he finds the sense to follow you and darts out of the room.

Bruce called down the hall, "Wait! Y/N, hold on!"

You snicker to yourself when he hollers, "I meant yes! I'm sorry for lying!"

He sighed to himself, "Damnit."